Burning Bright
by Hadley Burke
Summary: Will Martin live or will he die..." Does anyone want to finish this, because I can't seem to...
1. Chapter 1

Burning Bright – Chapter 1 

By: Paints-the-Sky

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Martin, Vivian, or anything else associated with WAT.

Also, the song is "Numb" by Linkin Park, which is also on their album _Meteora_, or so I am told.

Author's Note: This is the fic formerly-known-as-"Escape." When I started this I fully intended to update weekly and actually finish… but I got the envitable WBFH (Writers Block From Hell) and have let it sit for a good six months. So now I've pulled it out again to finish it, and while I was at it, I re-vamped all the chappies too! _So_ _how do you like them apples???_ Unless of course you hate apples, then I guess the answer would be "No, thanks, I don't care for them much…" …Sorry.

When I re-vamped it I was left wondering: _Why the hell did I name it "Escape"?_ Since I couldn't come up with an answer, I changed it. The title won't make sense until Chapter 2, simply because I make it a policy to only have one song per chapter. Why you ask? Because I'm a dork. That clear enough for ya, Spanky?

Also, thanks to my beta reader, Peaches, her brutal honesty kept this from getting too corny.

PS: I have gotten some flak (whatever the hell flak is) for making Martin's dad sucha bastard. I have no idea how bastardly he acts on the show, seeing as I have seen Victor Fitzgerald on WAT for all of five seconds. But seeing as it makes the story so much better, (not to mention plausible,) I have molded him into a child-abusing guilt-mongering drunken bastard. _Ahh…_ I feel much better.

Please Read and Review!!!__

Martin tossed the papers back on his desk. He was so sick of paper work.

After he had gone off and gotten hurt in the field, it began to pile up at an alarming rate.

He was so tired of this. All this crap.

It was almost three hours after he was supposed to go home, yet

Martin didn't want to go home.

He knew what would be waiting there for him.

His father.

_I'm tired of being what you want me to be,_

_Feeling so faithless,_

_Lost under the surface,_

Another verbal beating. Always the same thing.

How he was such a screw up, how he should have just taken the desk job right under his father, how he was such a mistake.

****

_Don't know what your expecting of me _

_Put under the pressure_

_Of walking in your shoes_

But it was better than the real beatings he used to get.

He still had scars on his back from the belt, his father's weapon of choice.

At least those weren't as visible as the black eyes and bruises he would get. Once he had to wear long sleeved shirts for a month to cover all the bruises on his arms.

Every step that I take 

_is another mistake to you_

Maybe he should have just done as told, accepted the desk job, been a good son, take up where is father had left off.

_And every second I waste,_

_is more than I can take_

Martin almost laughed out loud at that thought. That would have turned out really bad. All the politics, all the bullshit they found so interesting was so pointless to Martin.

He needed to make a difference in the world, to get out in the field, to help people.

His father couldn't see why.

Dad thought this "saving people" business what a load of shit.

He made sure to tell Martin that, too.

"Shouldn't you have been home three hours ago?" asked Vivian as she passed on her way out.

"Yeah, yeah," Martin rose from his chair to grab his coat.

He would have to go home sooner or later. There was no escaping Victor Fitzgerald.

Martin walked out of the building into the pouring rain. It drove into his eyes, blurring his vision, melting all the city lights into twisted little rainbows.

_I've become so numb,_

_I can't feel you there,_

_I've become so tired,_

_So much more aware, _

_I'm becoming less,_

_All I want to do,_

_Is be more like me_

_And be less like you_

Lately Martin couldn't see the point.

He couldn't remember why he had joined the FBI in the first place.

He told himself the same old story, to help people, to make a difference in the world. Maybe to find love…

But had he? Did his existence really change anything?

Martin downed another shot of whiskey. And another. Just one more, and maybe he could forget what a disappointment he was.

He was home now, and to his relief, it was empty. Dark, cold, and empty.

"I _really_ need to get a girlfriend," thought Martin

The confrontation with his father would come, one way or another. But, _Thank God_, not tonight.

Martin thought of his suicide case today. A guy had left his loving wife and kids and just took off. They found him in a cabin up in Maine, but too late, he had shot himself.

Danny had asked him, "How would you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Kill yourself,"

Martin had said bullet to the brain at the time, but now, he wasn't so sure. Samantha's answer, sleeping pills, sounded easier to him.

An overdose.

He could do it right now.

Martin shook himself. These thoughts scared him.

Must be the alcohol, it is the alcohol, he convinced himself.

Still, the pills, and overdose, it would be so easy to escape. So easy.

He got up and made his way to the bathroom where he kept his pills. He flicked on the light.

His refection was instantly visible in the mirror.

He looked tired and broken, only the empty shell of what a human being was supposed to look like.

Martin didn't want to look at himself though.

He opened the mirrored cabinet and took a small white bottle of the self. "Night Time Sleep Aid" read the label.

He popped open the lid and let a stream of little blue pills flow out into his palm.

_And I know,_

_I might end up failing too,_

_But I know, _

_You were just like me,_

_With someone disappointed in you,_

_I've become so numb,_

_I can't feel you there, _

_I've become so tired,_

_So much more aware,_

_I'm becoming less,_

_All I want to do,_

_Is be more like me,_

_And be less like you,_

He rolled the pills around in his hand, feeling the smooth texture. So easy, So easy.

Author's Note II: Dare I continue? I won't unless you give some reviews!! Also, sorry about the uber-long A/N, I just figured I owed you guys an explanation.


	2. Chapter 2

Burning Bright – Chapter 2 

By: Paints-the-Sky

Disclaimer: Don't own em'.

Author's Note: A few people have told me that Martin and Danny aren't really that good of friends, at least not enough to bring to parties. But for the purposes of plot points, (wow, three "p's" in a row!) I will make M and D buddies. Thanks to my beta reader, Peaches, and to those who R&R. You make my day!

_The more the light shines through me_

_I pretend to close my eyes_

_The more the dark consumes me_

_I pretend I'm burning bright_

BRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNGG.

Martin jumped, scattering pills across the floor. Saved by the bell.

BRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNGG. It was his cell phone.

He flipped open his phone.

"Yeah?"

"Hey man, where are you?"

It was Danny. Martin could hear music and laughter in the backround. Shit, Danny's party, he had forgotten all about it.

"Sorry… I- I got… tied up… at the Bureau, you know how it is," Martin fumbled for the words.

"Well, are you comin'?"

"Um… nah, I'm wrecked… I need… I'd better stay home," Martin tried to keep his voice from shaking, but it betrayed him.

"Okay. Maybe I'll come over later and check on you, 'kay?" Danny's voice was laced with worry.

"Yeah, bye" Martin flipped the phone back shut, not waiting for Danny's reply.

_Shit_, Martin thought, looking around the room. What had he done? Or almost done.

He felt like crying, thinking of how moments before, he had been ready to down a whole bottle of pills. Ready to end it all. Had it really come to this?

"_You need to get some help_," his conscious said.

_No._ No way. He already had a hot-head reputation after the stunt he pulled in the field, he didn't need to become the suicidal guy, too. How fucking great would that be?

_Oh yeah guys, I work with hardened criminals everyday, and I go home every night to cry on my shrink's couch about how my Daddy didn't hug me…_

Yeah right, like that was gonna happen.

Martin crouched down on the floor, meaning to pick up the fallen tablets.

He should probably call Danny back and tell him not to come, but Martin knew he would anyways.

Martin only plucked two of the little blue pills off the floor, leaving the rest. He swallowed them quickly. Maybe all he needed was a good nights sleep.

Empty pill bottle still in hand, he stumbled out to the front room and slumped into a chair.

An informercial shouted at him from the TV, crying out the benefits of the fresh carrot juice through hishaze.

The TV screen wavered and blurred as Martin fell into a drug induced slumber.

_There's nothing every wrong_

_But nothings ever right_

_Such a cruel contradiction_

_I know I crossed the line_

_It's not easy to define_

_I'm born through indecision_

_There's always something new_

_Some path I'm s'posed to choose_

_With no particular rhyme or reason…_

Rough, violating hands grabbed his shoulders, shaking him hard. His father's hands.

It seemed like only seconds had passed, but for all Martin knew, it could have been days.

_Not again thought, _Martin thought, _please, Dad, don't do this…_

"Martin, _Martin_-- _oh_ _God_, please Martin… wake up!"

He opened his eyes to see Danny worried face above him.

"Danny, what the--"

"Fuck man, you scared me there," said Danny, sounding immensely relieved. "I thought you'd…" Danny trailed off.

"Thought I'd what?" asked Martin tersely. He didn't enjoy being woken up at three in the morning. "How'd you get in here?"

"Your door was unlocked,"

Danny pressed on, nodding to the empty bottle of sleeping pills that fallen to the floor. "I've been in the bathroom, Martin. What's go'in on?"

Martin rubbed his forehead. Shit, he should've to picked up the pills. He glanced up at Danny.

Danny didn't show any signs of backing off.

"Nothing happened, I just dropped the bottle and didn't pick 'em up. I'm fine,"

"Martin, I can tell when you're lying,"

"_Oh really,_" Martin spat, sarcasm dripping off his words.. He was exhausted, and really didn't need an interrogation right then. "I didn't know you had become a fuckin' mind reader,"

"Christ, what's you're issue man?" cried Danny, taking a step back.

"Nothing. I'll see you tommorow, _man_,"

Danny took the hint.

Martin got up and followed him to the door.

Danny was halfway out the door when he turned. "Martin, look, I'm sorry. I know what's- what you…" he couldn't finish that sentence.

"Just talk to me Martin," he looked straight into Martin's eyes, and the fear and shame he saw in them only confirmed Danny's suspicions.

Martin broke his gaze as he looked to the floor. "There's nothing to talk about," he said quietly.

Danny opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it, and sighed.

As he shut the apartment door, Martin could see Danny shaking his head in a kind of pity.

Well Martin didn't need his damn pity. He just hoped he hadn't let anything slip.

Everything was safe, everything was secret. For now…

_The more the dark consumes me,_

_I pretend I'm burning_

_Burning bright… _

Authors Note II: The lyrics are from "Burning Bright" by Shinedown. Now click that lil' blue button and make me happy…

PS- Okay maybe you weren't surprised... yet! _MUWAHAHAHA!_


	3. Chapter 3

Burning Bright – Chapter 3

By: Paints-the-Sky

Authors Note: Thank you to everyone who reviews, any suggestions or comments are always excellent. I am a big Martin/Sam fan; I wish they would hook up already (on the show, I mean) Oh yes, the mathematics in this chapter might not be quite right, as I am usually writing during math class.

Disclaimer: I don't own WAT or anything affiliated with it.

Danny tapped his pen against the polished oak table. If Martin didn't show up in exactly four and half seconds, he would be late. Danny could see Jack coming out of his office with several files in hand; ready to start their case. Sam had come in only moments before, and Vivian had probably been here hours before anyone else.

Jack opened the glass door, moving swiftly to the head of the table, passing out the files as he walked.

"Okay people, Fiona Ballou, age fourteen, went missing from the Century 21 and--"

Jack was staring at Martin's empty chair.

"Where's Martin?"

Everyone just shrugged. This was probably the first time in history that Martin Fitzgerald had ever been late.

"Danny?" Jack asked.

They all looked expectantly at Danny, who was trying to hide behind his case file.

"Danny, where's Martin?" Jack asked again.

"Uh...I dunno. He seemed kinda down when he I saw him last night," muttered Danny.

Down was an understatement. Martin was fuckin' suicidal.

"Sam?"

Sam shook her head

"Vivian?"

"Jack, I'm sure he'll be here in a minute," said Vivian calmly.

"Well if you hear from him, tell him to call me,"

Twenty minuets later the team was walking out the building, ready to spread out and cover their bases.

Jack had just reached the doors when Martin burst through them, panting hard.

"Sorry...Jack...traffic...no cabs...sorry,"

"Martin, did you run here all the way from you apartment?"

Martin nodded.

Jack tried hard not to smile.

It was fifteen blocks from the Bureau to Martin's apartment, well over a mile.

Over-achiever was another big understatement for Martin.

"Its okay, just don't let it happen again. We got a big case, Fiona Ballou, age fourteen, last seen at Century 21..."

"_Fuck_," Martin muttered under his breath. It was the third time he had been cut off by a taxi in the last ten minutes. He gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, gritting his teeth to keep from screaming. He needed to get down the victim's house to question the parents; they were losing time, if only those damn taxis would—

"Martin, you okay?" Sam put a hand on his shoulder.

Martin was relieved that had had not been partnered with Danny this time. What a pleasant car ride _that_ would have been.

"Yeah, I'm fine,"

Sam nodded, looking back out the window. That was what Martin liked about Sam, she knew when to leave it alone.

And that was what he needed, to be left alone.

Jack had seen Danny's expression when Martin walked in, a look of extreme relief. Like Danny hadn't expected to see Martin ever again. It made Jack very suspicious.

_Why would Danny be so worried?_

Sure it was the first time Martin had ever been late, but it wasn't _that_ big of a deal. There was some problem between them, and if it was enough to make Danny worry, it was big.

And that made Jack worry.

"Two double caramel mochas, another two straight black with cream, and a sugar-free hazelnut latte," said the perky cashier, handing Jack the cardboard tray of steaming coffees.

"Thanks," he muttered. His team was pulling an all-nighter; they would need all the caffeine they could get. Fiona Ballou was still missing, there were a few leads, but the crucial twenty-four hours they needed were running out.

He was about to round the corner into the office when he paused. He could hear shouting coming from the men's bathroom. Very familiar shouting.

"_I don't need any help,"_

"_Yes you do-"_

"_Don't tell me what I need! It wasn't what it looked like, okay? Just leave it alone,"_

"_If I 'leave it alone,' something worse will happen,"_

"_Nothing happened, I'm fine. Just...just promise you won't tell anyone, okay? OKAY?"_

"_Okay man, whatever..." _

Out through the bathroom door burst Martin, face hard with anger.

"Jack," he murmured as he brushed past Jack back to the office.

A defeated Danny pushed open the door a second later, but froze when he spotted Jack.

"Hey, got the coffee?" Danny said casually, trying to play it cool.

"Yeah," said Jack, handing Danny his cup. "What was that all about?"

"You heard?"

"Kinda hard not to,"

Danny took a long drink of coffee before answering.

"It's nothing, just a disagreement,"

"It didn't sound like nothing,"

Just then Sam chose to peak around the corner.

"Jack, does that smell like _my_ sugar-free hazelnut latte?"

"Yeah it is," piped Danny, "I need to go check on trace, see if they found anything on that jacket," he said, using the distraction to slip away.

"C'mon Jack," Sam said, motioning around the corner, "we've got a long night ahead of us,"

"You have _no_ idea,"

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Sam. It's Nothing..."

Authors Note II: Another big thanks to my reviewers; you have all helped me out a ton! Hopefully this chapter is up to par with the first two, and even more I hope you'll give me some feedback! Love you all! P-t-S


	4. Author's Note

Authors Note:

I have had many requests for me to continue this story, and, for some reason, I can't. I've let it sit, I've revamped it twice, and still no further inspiration comes. So I'm giving permission to whoever reaches me first, to continue this story however they see fit. Email me at at if you'd like to finish this story.

Love you all,

Paints-the-Sky


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